Running Home
by Vanilla Princess Baby
Summary: "I've-I've never really told you why I do it, have I?" He asked, rhetorically. "I've never told you how it even became a coping mechanism for me." Toby opens up after a fight about his habit of running from every confrontation. Set in 6A.


**AN: This is set somewhere in 6A.**

 **I also want to thank all my constant readers. You guys mean everything to me.**

 **Read and review, my lovelies.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Spencer shook her head as the tears hit her book, trying to concentrate on the words before her and not on the fact that her boyfriend had just stormed out on her again.

It's not like it was new.

He did it all the time. It was one of the few consistencies in her life and the very thought made her want to kick him for it. Every time they had a fight, every time anything got to be too much or a problem came to light, he left. He walked out the door with purpose, at a breakneck speed.

She didn't bother chasing him. She used to, when she was stupid and naive and thought one day he'd stop. Thought his leaving was her fault. Thought she could change it, fix their problems and fix his need to always have one foot out the door.

Who was she kidding? She _was_ the problem, she thought to herself, slamming her book down and squeezing her eyes shut to suppress the tears that were starting to flow faster now, as her frustration, anger, her devastation and her fear all boiled together, making her feel like exploding or stabbing or screaming.

She was the reason he always left. Whenever they got into a fight, it was always something she said that pushed him towards the door. Begging was the very last thing Spencer Hastings liked to do but somehow, every time he took off, she found herself doing just that. Begging, pleading, crying, leaving him desperate messages.

Not this time. This time she wasn't having it. He wanted to leave? Don't let the door hit him on the way out.

The very thought, though strong on the inside of her head, made her let out a loud, painful sob as she imagined her life if he never came back.

She hated how she loved him so much, how she needed him so desperately, how she clung to him whenever she was scared, though she struggled to admit that too.

He was her safe place to land.

Spencer couldn't control her snide, bitter thoughts that it was just her luck that the person she happen to fall for, the one person she had accepted as a safe haven for herself, would also happen to have issues running away and dealing with confrontation.

 _Safe place to land, my ass,_ she thought. _More like shaky grounds to stand._

Spencer sat there, in indecisive hell, caught between hating Toby's tendencies to always run off and wishing he was here to hold her close and wipe away her tears.

She thanked God though, that her mom was out of town. No way she wanted an audience to witness her breakdown.

She didn't want an audience. She just wanted the one person who always ditched her.

Taking a deep breath, she chose to push the anger forward and the hurt back. She'd rather be angry than sad any day of the week. Anger she could control, conjure up more when she wanted, inflict it onto someone else, lash out, rant, scream.

It was the hurt that tore at her heart and destroyed her from the inside out. It was the feeling in her gut, like an atomic bomb was about to go off, every time she watched him freeze and then pivot towards the door. It was the nagging voice inside her head that screamed in her ear,

 _He leaves because you're too much._

 _You're too hard to handle._

 _No one can stand to deal with you._

 _Your parents were right to always call you the difficult child._

 _The one person who loves you unconditionally doesn't even want you half the time._

Toby was the one person who always saw her difficult side. She, for whatever reason she never could quite grasp, didn't have any problem showing him the side of her that her family always depicted as aggravating, distasteful, exasperating, tiresome and obnoxious. Her parents whispered throughout her childhood to her relatives at holidays about her, labeling her "a refractory challenge".

She tried-albeit sometimes in vain-to hide it from her friends. Spencer tried to be their backbone, tried to make them feel like they had a leader, someone who they could count on, someone who'd always have a plan. But it was so hard and _she never asked to be the leader_.

Toby didn't ask her to be his backbone, though she still tried to be. He returned the favor to her and then some, always supporting her unconditionally, doing what he had to do to protect her physically, comforting her mentally. He made it clear that he never expected her to be strong.

That was what stung the worst. It was impossible for her not to let him see her vulnerable. He saw right through her without trying. Her flaws, her insecurities, her anxieties, her imperfections. Toby saw them all and made her believe he loved her because of them, instead of in spite of them.

And then he walked away in their fights and Spencer was left to question everything he ever said to her. Did he mean it when he said she could never do anything that change out he felt? Or did this negate that? Why did he shut her out? Why wouldn't he answer her calls? How mad could he possibly be at her? What about what she'd done could possibly be so _wrong_? What about her made him want to get away?

Why wasn't he here? Why did he have to make her feel safe and loved, only to have that illusion painfully ripped from her time and time again, every time he ran for the door?

The tears were hitting her cheeks like waterfalls now, falling fast as the lump in her throat grew and grew. She tried to stifle the urge to cry out, pushing her hand over her eyes.

She apparently had been completely in her own little world, absolutely disconnected from reality as she jumped at least a foot at the knock on her door.

Peering inside the small window provided on each pale white door was her boyfriend who was currently consuming her every thought and the reason behind her waterworks.

His eyes met her's and instantly his careful, somewhat downcast, composure crumpled. She must look as bad as she felt, she thought as she swallowed down the lump still lodged in the back of her throat and walked towards the door. She pulled it open hastily, trying to appear colder than she really felt.

"Hi," She said briskly, not meeting his eyes as she walked back over to the couch.

"Hey," He said after a beat, shutting the door behind him awkwardly as he shyly made his way over to join her on the couch, his tail figuratively between his legs.

It was obvious he knew she had been bawling, she verified, looking down into her phone for her reflection. Her face was red and splotchy, her nose running and her eyes puffy. She tried in vain once again to swallow the lump in her throat as Toby built up the courage to speak.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," He said softly, reaching out to touch her arm, gentle as a lamb. She pulled her arm away before he could make contact, her eyes ablaze, but she still said nothing. "I never want to hurt you, Spence," He whispered, tender and defeated, looking like the very thought was ripping his heart in two.

"Imagine if you wanted to," She said, her voice low and strained, keeping her eyes on her hands.

Toby had to shut his eyes to recover from that one. "Spencer-"

"If you really cared that you were hurting me, you wouldn't leave," She snapped, her voice breaking, looking up to meet his eyes for the first time in hours.

"Spencer," His voice rose from the soft tone he had been using, almost to groan. "I've told you before, it isn't about you. It's not personal, I _just_ need space."

He expected an angry retort from her. He thought she'd have some choice words for him. He didn't foresee her throwing her phone at the coffee table with as much strength as her one hundred and twelve pound body held, making a cracking sound that echoed throughout the entire house and pierced him into silence.

She said nothing at first, fervently rising to her feet and turning her back to him. Spencer knew deep down he always loved her, that he'd always do anything to prove that to her, that he was probably right, his flighty nature wasn't about her, per se. But when he left, when he refused to see that in spite of his words, it felt like it was a direct attack on her, it drove her up the wall.

She was about ready to throw her hands up and be done. Let it go, go to bed and see if tomorrow she felt any different. Turning towards him, she walked back over to where he sat, his back slouched with his head in his hands. Letting the anger flow out of her body, she simply couldn't help herself from asking one last question. "Don't you even care that it hurts me?" She asked, in a voice that held no vigor, that was scratchy and quiet and almost childlike.

His head rose robotically out of his hands at her question, his eyes boring into her's, pain meeting pain. Wordless, he opened his arms and, without thinking twice she crawled onto his lap and buried her face in his neck, both of them surrendering the fight.

He felt her warm tears on his skin and it was enough to break his dam, as he cradled her in his arms. "I'm sorry, Spencer," He whispered, contritely. "I'm so sorry, baby." He pressed a kiss to her head that was still burrowed into his chest.

She let her tears fall silently down into where his neck and shoulder met, letting her cry her fears and anxiety out, her body lightly shaking with her cries but no sounds coming out. She sat there for a long time, on his lap, with both his arms wrapped around her, feeling better than she had in hours. It was a cathartic release for her. Words weren't necessary as he squeezed her tighter and tighter, placing a kiss on her neck or shoulder every once in a while.

Toby held her for a long time, running his fingers through her hair, gently massaging her scalp and rubbing her back and shoulders. He didn't hush her or try to get her to calm down. He knew that when her tears flared up and her emotions were running high, the best thing he could do was hold her until she determined when she was done.

As the tears poured out, her anger dissipated completely and she felt like she could see clearer than before. The fact that he was holding her like his life depended on it, whispering reassurances in her ear, stroking her hair and her back, probably had a lot to do with that fact. She always felt like she had a better perspective when his arms were around her.

She realized what deep down she knew all along. His habit of running from every confrontational situation started long before her and the habit itself likely had little to do with her personally. The little voice in her head that screamed out her insecurities dimmed and quieted when he held her so lovingly and she felt a little silly for getting so angry with him.

Spencer took a deep breath as her crying jag came to an end, pulling her head back to lay against his shoulder, wiping a few stray tears against his chest. He reached out and rubbed the remaining salt water off her face, so delicately it made her tear up all over again as he pushed her hair back as well, placing another kiss on her nose. "I'm sorry," She whispered against his t-shirt, breaking her long broach of silence. "I should never have said you were trying to hurt me."

His reaction surprised her. "I've-I've never really told you why I do it, have I?" He asked, rhetorically, with a glint in his eyes that she could only identify as guilt and vulnerability. "I've never told you how it even became a coping mechanism for me," He added softly, unable to look her in the eye again. His one arm was still looped around her waist, his fingers finding their way inside her shirt to stroke her bare side tenderly, almost as a distraction.

He allowed the other hand to fall in her lap, playing with her fingers for a long time without continuing. Spencer didn't prompt him, waiting for him to open up on his own time. Instead, she was content just lying in his lap and patiently looking at him, enjoying his ministrations.

"My dad and I had been fighting for months," Toby finally spoke, his voice an octave higher than his usual tone. "H-he blamed my mom's. . . illness on me a lot. I don't even think he ever gave me a real reason. He just. . . had this look of disappointment he'd give me whenever she came up. Almost like I made her depressed. That somehow it was my fault she got sick," He paused, thinking his words through carefully. His eyes were still downcast and it broke Spencer's heart that this was so difficult for him to talk about. She couldn't help but wonder, if he had a decent dad or a nice step mom, would he still have this hard of a time talking about what happened? Was this a reflection of what he had to do to survive in that household? Build a wall so thick around himself that even years later, it still refused to be torn down.

It was amazing how much could have been different if someone had just sat down with the fifteen year old boy who was going through hell and told him they were there. That if he ever needed to talk, he had an ear that'd be glad to listen. Someone to tell him they loved him and nothing that had happened or was about to happen was his fault. That he was a child and he didn't deserve to carry this burden alone. That someone out there loved him and would never stop.

Suddenly, Spencer felt nauseous, realizing a few minutes back she was furious at him for failing to be _her_ safe haven. At one point every single person in his life failed him when he needed them most. When he was barely more than a kid. And he had to learn how to deal with that, on his own, in an environment where he didn't feel safe, physically or emotionally. The very thought made her stomach churn and fresh tears roll down her cheeks, as she realized how lucky she was to have him in her life at all.

He used his thumb to wipe the new liquid from her face without even glancing up at her. "This was after my mom had been sent to Radley, obviously," He finally continued, licking his lips for momentum in his speech. "I thought I was going to explode, living in that house with my dad. I honestly thought at the time it couldn't get worse," His voice cracked, clearly thinking about the step mom and her demented daughter that came later, that broke his spirit and gave him battle scars he still carried with him to this day. "Me and my dad in that house . . . it was awful. We rarely spoke. We ate separately. We hid in different rooms with the doors shut usually. We never went into the living room because . . . my mom's piano was there and the only thing we agreed on was we didn't want to see it but we didn't want to move it either. I guess we both thought that if we left it exactly how it was, we could pretend she was still home, playing it. . . As if moving it meant we accepted the possibility of her never coming back." He cleared his throat and then continued, but Spencer felt a tear hit her hand and she knew this was so hard for him to relive. She wanted to wrap him up in her arms then and tell him it was okay. He didn't have to talk about this ever again. He wasn't alone anymore and she'd always be there for him.

Before she could articulate that, he started speaking again and her words died prematurely in her throat. "The only time we really talked is when my dad decided to derail me. He used to lay into me for the littlest things I had done. Sometimes it was that I broke a bowl and left it on the floor, sometimes it was that I left the fridge open and defrosted all our groceries when I was eleven. After he came down on me enough I started to reciprocate it. To an extent, I guess. I would tell him he never treated my mom like he should have and he'd tell me that I was a disappointment and he always knew it. The more he blamed me for her depression, the more I blamed him. I said he was never around, he didn't say I love you hardly ever, he made her feel stupid, he didn't ever compliment her and rarely wanted to celebrate Valentine's Day and. . . my mom just knew he didn't love her enough," He paused to shrug and blink a couple times, building up his strength to keep going.

Spencer looked at him with wide eyes, hanging on every word. He _never_ talked about his parents. Ever. And as curious as she was at times about their mysterious family, she hated the look plastered on his face at the moment. It shone in his eyes, even when he wasn't looking at her. It was in his muscles, in his posture, almost like his family crippled him.

Scars aren't just physical. Spencer had learned that long ago but it never quite sunk in until she saw it in Toby. The mental damage these people that he called family had done to his psyche was unparalleled. It was like they physical tore at the lining of his soul, trying to destroy the entire essence of his being.

"He said I was his biggest disappointment, more than once. He told me that he wished my mom had let him whip me into shape like he wanted. He said I was. . . .that I was too much of a burden on my mom and it was really what caused her depression-"

"That isn't true," She disputed, unable to bite her tongue on that one, despite the fear that her interrupting would make him stop talking altogether. "You know, that isn't true, don't you? Your dad just wanted to deflect the blame onto you so he didn't have to feel guilty anymore. You did not cause your mom's depression, you were _literally_ the love of her life, her transcript said so-" She cut herself off at his rapid nodding, as he met her eyes, his beautiful baby blues full of moisture and heartbreak.

"I know, I know," He assured her, wrapping his arms tighter around her, drawing her closer to him, so that her head was buried further into his chest and she had to turn her neck up to look at him. "He said he wished my mom would have let him turn me into a real man and he told me that basically I was a fuck up in all areas. . . I don't know, maybe it was hard for him to look at me. He always said I was so much like her, maybe any reminder hurt. Maybe looking at me hurt him because all he saw was her and it made him lash out."

"Don't make excuses for him, babe," Spencer whispered to him softly. "He doesn't deserve your understanding."

To her surprise and utter shock, he let out a laugh. Not a loud one but a throaty one that sounded halfway like a sob. It scared her deeply. But he didn't make that sound in any response to her words. "Do you know, he actually told me after he got remarried that he thought Jenna was good for me. That since she moved in, I'd never talked back and that he was grateful for her because she kept me in line."

Spencer's mouth popped open and, if it were possible, smoke would have been coming out of her ears. She wanted to harm Daniel Cavanaugh in that moment, more than she wanted to harm -A.

Seeing her expression, Toby wisely decided to move on. "A few months later, after things had gotten really bad at home, we got a call. It was really late at night, I was already asleep," His watery eyes filled to the brim as he spoke. "My dad took the call. It was short but . . . he stayed by the phone for a while after they'd hung up. I knew it was something bad. I just, I had this feeling and I couldn't get back to sleep," Toby gnawed on his lip for a second, something that puzzled Spencer as she'd never seen him do it before. "He came into my room a long time later and told me to get dressed. He didn't tell me where we were going, he just told me to hurry. I think what scared me the most though was he said it really gently and called me son. I hadn't heard him call me that or talk to me in that tone in a long time."

Toby took a break from his recount to take a deep breath and blink back his tears. Spencer's heart broke a little more, watching him struggle in pain. "It's okay," She whispered without realizing it. Her mouth and brain were no longer connected, both focused on different aspects of her boyfriend. Her brain was working to process everything he was telling her, almost unable to accept it as his pain ailed her more than her own pain did. And her mouth just wanted to say anything to fix it, to fix what he was feeling, to make him feel loved and safe and her chest ached as she realized she could never fix this for him. Nothing would ever make this better and she wanted to cry again, realizing that he'd always have to live with this open wound.

"He refused to tell me where we were going. I asked and asked and asked in the car but," Toby shook his head, trailing off. "He kept just saying, 'Don't worry, son. Don't worry.' I think he wanted to hold onto any shred of hope that-that they were wrong."

And just like that, Spencer knew where the story was going. She braced herself because she knew this wasn't going to be easy for him to relive. She was tempted to cut him off and spare him this pain but she decided against it, something inside her not forming the words.

"When we got to the. . . you know. . . My dad told me to wait outside. He said he'd be right back and then we'd go home," The tears spilled over and down his cheeks, fast as a waterfall, as if someone broke down his barrier. "I knew it," He whispered, looking her square in the eye now, but his baby blues were glassy. "I knew it, I knew it was my mom that he was IDing. I knew that was why we were there. It was obvious but, I just, I wanted to prove myself wrong. I couldn't even imagine a life where my mom wasn't ever coming home. I-"

"Toby," She placed a hand on his face, but he shook his head, determined to get this out.

"I waited until my dad went inside then I followed him. He didn't hear me at first, not until. . . .Not until I saw who was lying on the table. By that time, it was too late and I bolted," He admitted, looking down, forcing himself to spit the words out now, like they were poisonous to keep inside any longer. "I followed my gut reaction. I didn't even think it through, I just knew that I couldn't stay there and I couldn't go back home with my dad and pretend that my mom wasn't dead and pretend that. . . .She didn't choose to leave me. Or so I thought," He wiped his face roughly, still not meeting eye contact now. "I don't know what direction I went or what time it was but the entire town was still sleeping and I just thought I had to keep moving, I had to get away before anything could get worse. Ever since she got sick it felt like every time I adjusted to the new circumstances, something else happened. Everything just kept getting worse and I thought if I hide, the world would just stop."

Spencer was speechless at him words. She couldn't believe in the year and a half they'd been together, it'd never dawned on her the physically reason he felt he needed to get away.

"I ran until I fell and then I just remember puking and there was dirt and trees everywhere and I kept throwing up until I thought my throat was bleeding and," He shrugged his shoulders, clearly ashamed to admit the next part, "I remember just wishing I'd choke to death and everything would be over."

"Toby," She whispered tenderly, a soothing balm and a desperate plea in one.

He continued, not as rushed now. "I just laid there, in the dirt and the trees and pretended everything was different. Pretended what had just happened, didn't happen. I cried until I passed out but, I don't really know how long I was out there. I just know," He sniffled loudly. "I just know that it wasn't until I found my way back home that I even felt like my mom's death was real. I could pretend when I was alone. When I was away from everything and everybody, I could still pretend."

Spencer said nothing as she ran her hand through his hair, massaging the back of his head, comfortingly. She unwearyingly waited for him to break the silence.

He kept his head down, reveling in the feeling of her massage. Minutes later, he swallowed the visible lump in his throat and spoke. "Does that make any sense?" He asked in a broken whisper. He looked at her, so tearfully innocent, blatantly wanting reassurance, and Spencer felt her heart break and swell at the same time.

"Yes," She whispered, cupping his cheek. "It does, Toby, it makes perfect sense." He nodded at her words, almost like he didn't accept it until she said it to be true. Spencer couldn't hold herself back anymore as she watched his tears come faster again, his face turning pink around his eyes. "It's okay, baby. It's okay," She repeated, like a broken record, gently pulling his face into her shoulder, wrapping her other arm around his neck and cradling his head. He went willingly and his sobs took over. Spencer realized then and there, that she'd never once heard Toby openly sob. She'd seen him cry. More times than she liked to recount. But never once did her beautiful, sensitive, sweet, boyfriend ever cry out. "I'm so sorry," She finally rasped, her own voice taken by the sound of Toby's loud sobs. "I'm so sorry." His sobs, which were almost giving Spencer a stomach ache to hear, turned to wailing and soon her own tears were spilling fast. "I love you, Toby," She said, guiding her fingers from his hairline all the way to the back of his neck, repeatedly. "I love you so, so much."

Spencer barely registered the fact that they were now horizontal on the couch, her legs still over his lap but his head now burrowed in her neck. She squeezed him closer, both the arms that were still wrapped around him couldn't get him close enough. She didn't shush his cries, as it occurred to her that he probably hadn't cried like this since his mom got sick and he needed this. He needed this relief. Bad.

Long after his breakdown quieted, after his wails turned to heartbreaking hiccups and after he went silent, Spencer held him against her, the way she'd learned from him. She stroked his shoulders, her hands slipping under his shirt in soothing patterns. She kept repeating variants of I love you and its okay but that wasn't what soothed him. It was the physical reassurances she gave him that provided him with comfort. Words, to them, mean little in comparison to actions.

She kissed his tears as he grew silent, rubbing his back softly as he moved his head from her chest and met her wet eyes with his. He propped himself up on his elbow and used his thumb once again to brush away the tears under her lashes. She felt her chest ache all over again when she saw how pink the skin around his eyes had turned. She was so focused on his pain that his words caught her off guard.

"I'm sorry," He croaked slowly.

"For what?" She asked, almost angry that he still felt guilt when he was hurting so deeply.

"For always running," He whispered, touching her face. "You're the last person on this planet I wanna hurt."

She turned her head and kissed his palm that lay against her cheek. "I know, Tobes."

It didn't escape her that these were the same words he'd uttered not long ago and her responses couldn't have been more different.

"I'm sorry," She apologized after a minute of just staring at him, tracing his face with her fingertips. "I'm sorry I made you talk about this. You should not have had to relive that."

He shook his head, rejecting her statement. "You were right though. My leaving isn't fair to you." There was a desperate gleam in his eye that killed her and yet, made her love him more. The idea of hurting her terrified him and she didn't know if it made her feel warm inside or throb all over.

Spencer took a deep breath, her mouth forming a small, comforting smile. "Well, I can't say it doesn't scare me sometimes," She admitted, her voice even and gentle, attempting to soothe his anxiety now. Knowing she couldn't hide it after her tears a few minutes prior, she sheepishly said, "And yeah, it hurts me. It does. But it isn't a deal breaker, Toby," She promised, grabbing his chin and forcing him to meet her eyes. "We can work on it together," She whispered, lithely. "We'll get through it, together."

The look of terror on Toby's face melted into awe. "Okay," He nodded almost eagerly, his voice faint, his unshed tears still overpowering his voice.

And because she knew what he was thinking, their unspoken connection stronger than ever before, "Toby," She beckoned sensitively, still holding his chin. "I'm never gonna leave you."

Her words were exactly what he needed to hear in that moment. All the hurt and betrayal and pain he'd suffered, all the times people who were supposed to love and protect him, abandoned and exploited him, it could have been mended if someone had just said those words to him. He'd dreamed about it for so long that hearing it from Spencer, though he always knew she loved him, didn't even seem real. Hell, Spencer to him, didn't even seem real. She was a perfect girl who chose to take pity on the town outcast and ended up falling in love with him. She'd forgiven him time and again for making some of the dumbest mistakes which cost her more than anyone. She was his dream, the made up image that some days was the only thing that kept him going while living under the same roof as Jenna. She was his dream come true and in that moment, words failed him as he didn't know how he could ever articulate this to her.

Instead of trying as words weren't really the easiest thing for either of them to start with, he pressed his lips roughly to her's. She was taken back by the sudden gesture but welcomed it nonetheless. She wrapped her arms around his neck, flipping them over so that she was on top, straddling him. His lips moved from her mouth to her cheek, down her chin, to her neck and then back up again, his tongue finding her's hungrily. It wasn't until they had to break apart to catch their breath that the words slipped out effortlessly. "You're my angel, you know that?" He whispered, reaching up to cup her face. "My mom sent you to me. I know she did."

Spencer had received a lot of compliments in her life, some she'd worked herself to the bone for. But none of them hit her quite like his did. She felt tears, but this time happy, fill her eyes. "You really think so?"

"I know she did," He whispered, leaning up to kiss her again. "I know she did."


End file.
